


8 Conversations That Never Happened (but really really should have)

by smalltrolven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Conversations, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-26 13:05:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One conversation per season that never happened (but really really should have)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Season 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters, only my words. Written for 8 days of Wincest

 

“It’s like I never left. Like you left this place for me open all this time. And now that I’m back, you’re slotting me right back in there. Did you even try Dean?” Sam asks, frustrated that his brother isn’t taking up his side of this argument that’s been raging between them for days now.

Dean doesn’t say anything, gets up off his bed and grabs a beer out of the green cooler. He drinks half of it down in one long swallow, his back to Sam, obviously thinking about how to somehow respond without responding. “Yeah I tried, lost track of how many times.”

Talking to Dean’s back, watching his shoulders for any response, Sam says, “I don’t mean just one-night stands Dean.”

Dean spins around abruptly, leaning against the dresser for support, “What do you mean then?”

Seeing how unsteady his brother is, either from too much beer or too much conversation, Sam goes a little easy, “Like how I tried, with Jess, to make it work with someone else.” Someone else _besides my brother_ goes unsaid.

“No, not really.” Dean shrugs, looking across the room with his chin lifted and his eyes blazing challenge.

Sam sees that challenge and takes it as is his role as little brother after all, “But you said you would if I did. You promised. I didn’t want you just pining away or whatever while I was gone.”

“Not how it was Sammy.” Dean shakes his head, looks furious and then sadder than Sam’s ever seen.

“It’s Sam. How was it then?” Sam corrects by rote, knowing it won’t ever sink in, just a ritual phrase between them forever and ever. But he’s curious, like rubber-necker on the highway curious, just how bad did it get while he was gone at school? He had tried (and failed) not to think about it too much, it wasn’t up to him anymore.

Dean finishes his beer, throws the bottle into the trash with a solid thunk, “Didn’t see the point.”

“So you just didn’t try?”

“I don’t owe you this. Can’t you just be glad for two seconds that we’re back together?” Dean reaches into the cooler for another bottle.

“I am glad, you have no idea how much. I just want to know.” Sam says, swinging his legs off the bed, bare feet touching the dirty carpet, barely stopping himself from crossing the room to hug the life out of this frustrating idiot that he loves so completely he can barely breathe or think straight anymore.

“What? About how you’re better at normal life than I am? I get it Sam, you win.” Dean drinks from his new bottle of beer, avoiding Sam’s eyes.

“No. It’s not that.” Sam says, sounding evasive even to himself.

“Well, what is it then? You really want to hear about what it was like after you left, how messed up I got? I’m pretty sure you don’t.” Dean sets his beer down on the dresser, crosses his arms and glares. “So messed up Dad even ditched me too.”

Sam can’t take it, seeing Dean close up like this, so he gets up off his bed and is across the room in a few strides, in Dean’s face, “No Dean, he didn’t. That’s not why he’s gone and you know it. Listen, you said to me the night you picked me up at Stanford that you didn’t want to do it alone. Well, I don’t either. I found out I can’t.”

“Seems like you were doing pretty well before I messed things up for you.”

Sam reaches out to grab Dean’s shoulders, shaking him a little, “Cut it out Dean. That’s not how it happened. Whatever Dad’s been hunting all these years finally made a move. It’s got nothing to do with you.” Sam can feel Dean’s body harden under his touch, the walls went up in his eyes a while ago, but now his body’s defenses are online, keeping him out, keeping them separate.

“You keep telling yourself that Sammy, but I’ll never forgive myself for bringing you back into this, you hear me? Never. You got out. But I dragged you back in because I was selfish, and weak.” Dean looks over Sam’s shoulder at his bed, wishing he’d just begged off with a headache and gone to sleep, avoided this whole thing.

“Is that what you think? Really? I knew we didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of stuff, but wow dude. You’re so off-base on this. I was a naive fool to think I could ever get out, if I hadn’t tried, Jess would still be alive. You’re the only reason I’m still alive right now, I would have burned up with her in that fire if you hadn’t pulled me out. Guess I’m selfish too, ‘cause I’m pretty damn thankful you came back for me.”

“You really believe all that?” Dean asks, looking up into Sam’s eyes, searching to see the truth that lies behind the words, reading Sam’s face like the committed-to-memory it had to be while Sam was gone all that time.

“Yeah Dean, I do.” Sam says with total conviction, squeezing Dean’s shoulders to make the point.

“You don’t blame me?” Dean asks.

“No. Not for that. For not coming to see me all those years, I blame you for that. Missed you like breathing Dean.” Sam’s face begins to crease with holding in too much emotion.

“I couldn’t Sammy, I knew I wouldn’t be able to let you go again.” Dean says all in rush, wishing he could un-say the words immediately, that giving that up to Sam will just make it all so much worse in the end when he leaves.

Ah there it is, what Sam was looking for. The confession he really wanted to pull out of Dean lying there sparkling between them. Sam’s not stupid, he knows that his brother isn’t the hearts and flowers type of guy, but hearing this, explains everything. Now he can get comfortable again in the space Dean had left open for him all this time. But it’s going to be different, it has to be now, because there’s no Dad between them, he’s somewhere out there, waiting to be found. 

Sam knows that Dean doesn’t want to say anymore, that he didn’t want to say any of this at all, so he leans down the last distance between them, seals their lips together so Dean will understand no more words are required. Not for tonight at least.

**_~FIN~_ **


	2. Season 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation that I wish had happened in season 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my characters, only my words. Written for 8 days of Wincest set immediately prior to 2.21" All Hell Breaks Loose Pt. 1"-last two lines of dialogue are from that episode.

“How’s your tattoo feeling?” Dean asks, scratching at his chest with a little frown.

“Okay, a little itchy I guess.” Sam answers, and then sees Dean scratching. “Hey, cut that out, remember they said no scratching.”

“Okay mom.”

“Hey if you want to ruin it after all that, make some big ol’ scar, go right ahead.” Sam says.

“Ah, so you just don’t want me to have another scar.”

“No, I want the thing to actually work. For both of us. Believe me, you don’t ever want to be possessed.”

“Oh I get that. Remember who shot who after all. Still got a scar from where Jo patched me up, she wasn’t nearly as neat with her stitches as you are.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Wasn’t your fault Sammy.”

“I know, still felt myself shoot you though.”

“Hey it wasn’t the first time you’ve shot me.”

“Yeah, but that was rock salt, this was a bullet, that could have killed you.”

“See, now this is what I was missing out on in that wish world the djinn had me stuck in.” Dean says.

“What? Fighting about scars and demon possession?”

“Yeah. There you were embarrassed by me, wouldn’t have known or cared if I had a whole body full of scars.” Dean says, remembering how the wish Sam proved it again and again, that he was so glad to be away from Dean, the visceral hurt that he’d experienced that Sam didn’t even want to be his brother.

“You do.” Sam points out. Because he knows each and every one of those scars, could draw you a map from memory, having traced them countless times with fingers, lips and tongue.

“I do what?” Dean asks.

“Have a body full of scars. But I’m not embarrassed by you, well sometimes I am.”

“At least there’s that.” Dean grins, looking sideways at Sam, but he sees that Sam looks serious. Which means there’s more talking to come.

“I’m sorry that I was like that, it must have been hard being with me when I was such a jerk.”

“Now you’re apologizing for a djinn-wish version of yourself? Sammy, c’mon, how’s that even make sense?”

“Guess that version of me lives in your brain somewhere. The Sam who went away and stayed away.”

“You were clueless and happy, glad to be out of Kansas with your girl and school. How it was supposed to be. If I hadn’t told you what Dad really did, maybe you could have been like that in the real world.”

“I’m glad I’m not. And I would have found out about Dad on my own, you don’t get to blame yourself for that.” Sam says it like he means it, like that’s the end of the story on that particular subject.

It goes quiet in the car for a while, but Dean can’t stop thinking about it, whether this Sam, his real Sam feels like he should have had a different life, “You ever want to try that again? Having a life out of hunting? School, a girl, the whole nine?”

Sam looks over at his brother sharply, surprised to be hearing this question again, “Not anymore, kind of feels like I tried that, and it made things worse.”

“Worse how?” Dean asks, not getting what Sam means at all.

“Like it got someone killed, and what it did to you.” Sam says simply, not wanting to elaborate on all the effects his leaving had on Dean.

“I got along just fine.” Dean protests, because he’s supposed to, he knows that neither of them believe it.

“Not what you told me.” Sam says, remembering that conversation a year ago where Dean had confessed why he hadn’t come to see him at Stanford, that he wouldn’t have been able to let Sam go again.

“I’m sorry you think it’s so wrong that I wanted something better for you.”

“Nothing’s better than this, what we have right now. I’m sorry that you still think that’s how things were supposed to be for me.” Sam says, with the futile hope that Dean will listen to him for once.

Dean’s silent for a long time, savoring Sam’s confession as the red-meat it is to his always hungry heart, “Well weren’t they?”

“You think I’d rather be clueless, with Jess, and unconnected to you. What was it you said? Embarrassed by you. Barely even being brothers, much less the rest. That would be better somehow than this?” Sam asks, exasperated that Dean is continuing on this argument, refusing to give in on who knows what’s best for his own life. _Just like always_ , he thinks, but it’s how Dean shows he cares.

“Wouldn’t it?” Dean asks.

“No Dean, no it wouldn’t. Yellow eyes still would have come for me, and I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

“We don’t know what to do now. At least you would have had a few happy years with Jess.”

“But I’ve had them with you instead.” Sam says quietly but full of feeling. Wishing he could make Dean see that these two years with him, back on the road have been the best time of his life.

Dean doesn’t say anything in response, drives in silence for another fifteen minutes or so and finally pulls up in front of a small diner with a flooded parking lot. He shuts the car off and slides over to Sam, pulling him into a hug, kissing his neck softly, “It wasn’t a dream come true, it was a nightmare. That’s why I came out of it. Didn’t have you.”

“Well you do, and I’m not going anywhere.” Sam says, holding him tight to seal in the promise with his body. “Now let me go get us dinner.”

Dean leans up in Sam’s arms and kisses him, soft and warm, the comfortable kiss of one who’s secure there will be more coming soon, and finally lets him go reluctantly, moving back behind the steering wheel, “Hey, don’t forget the extra onions this time, huh?”

”Dude, I’m the one who’s gonna have to ride in the car with your extra onions.” Sam says, adding that extra bitchy tone to his voice just because he knows Dean loves it. He catches sight of Dean’s grin on his way out of the car.

Dean decides to add to his order, “Hey, see if they’ve got any pie.” Sam glares at him and shuts the door, hard. Dean leans forwards and yells at Sam’s retreating back, “Bring me some pie! I love me some pie.”

_**~FIN~** _


	3. Season 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation I wish had taken place during season 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my characters, only my words. Written for 8 days of Wincest. Set after 3.10 “Dream A Little Dream of Me”

He’s awake, he thinks he’s awake, he hopes he is because this was supposed to be over.

“Dean! C’mon, wake up.” Sam’s holding him tight and yelling into his face, they’re sitting up with the sheets wrapped around their legs like binding seaweed, the light from the bedside lamp burning into his tired eyes.

“Yeah, ‘m awake. What’s up?” Dean says in a sleepy mumble even though his heart is thudding at a gallop in his chest.

“You were having a nightmare dude.” Sam says, stroking Dean’s hair in what he hopes is a soothing way.

“Oh. Uh. Sorry I woke you.” Dean shakes his head a little so Sam will stop with the hair petting.

“’s okay, you were just out of it for a while. What were you dreaming about?”

“Nothin’, can’t really remember.” Dean looks over Sam’s shoulder at the digital clock, 3am, oh joy.

“You were saying something over and over again, sounded like ‘I’m not going to be like you.’”

“Oh.” Dean says in the quietest voice that’s not quite a whisper, sounding like a lost little kid at the grocery store.

“You do remember. C’mon tell me, otherwise you know you won’t be able to sleep.” Sam commands.

Dean sighs and flops back down onto the bed staring at the ceiling, “I was dreaming about what I saw when we took the dream root.”

“You said you didn’t see anything when we were separated.” Sam says, looking down at him with concern.

Dean puts his hands over his eyes, and rubs at them, “Didn’t want to talk about it.”

“So what was it?” Sam asks.

Dean closes his eyes and sighs, “Me. Demon me.”

“What do you mean Demon you?” Sam asks.

“What I’m going to turn into, when I go to Hell.” Dean leaves out why he believes this to be true, he hasn’t told Sam about the conversation he had with Ruby, and he’s damn well not planning on it, Sam’s got enough to worry about as it is already.

“You’re not going, I told you that last night, I’ll find a way.” Sam leaves out the conversation he had with Ruby about how she can maybe help him stop Dean from going to Hell. Dean’s got enough to worry about as it is already.

“Yeah Sammy, okay.” Dean says, trying to sound like he believes him.

“No, listen to me Dean, you are not going to Hell, I won’t let you.” Sam insists.

“Got it. Not going. Can we get some more sleep?” Dean asks, pleading for a little relief from the 3am inquisition.

“What did demon you look like?” Sam asks, knowing that he’s being a real pest in the middle of the night, but he can tell this important enough to insist.

Dean sighs, and turns over on his side facing away from Sam, “Same as I do, except with black eyes.”

“Whoa, no wonder you’re having nightmares. What did it say?” Sam asks, dreading the answer.

“Lot of stuff about Dad and you, and how I’m worthless, not my own person.”

“So basically all the worst stuff you think about yourself. That really is a nightmare.” Sam says, lying down behind Dean but not touching him.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Dean agrees.

“You know it’s not true right?” Sam asks, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Sure, whatever, g’night.” Dean manages to shrug even though he’s lying down.

“I wish I’d been in there with you, woulda kicked his ass for talking to you like that.”

“Oh really?” Dean asks with a small laugh.

“Yeah, I don’t like it when I hear anyone talk you down, especially you or something that looks like you.”

“When has that ever happened?” Dean scoffs.

“The shape shifter, he was wearing you and saying stuff I didn’t like, got me so mad, that’s how I beat him in that fight.” Sam explains.

“Wow okay tough guy.”

“Hey, it’s about you.  I protect what’s mine.” Sam squeezes him tightly, body blanketing Dean’s back completely, one arm over Dean’s waist, Sam’s hand on the center of his chest.

Dean gets real quiet and still for a while, Sam is almost convinced that he’s fallen back asleep when suddenly Dean moves his hand to hold onto Sam’s on his chest and asks in a quiet voice, “Sam remember right before yellow eyes grabbed you, we were talking and you said that you were glad you had a couple happy years with me?”

Sam rubs small comforting circles into Dean’s chest where he’s holding him tight, “Yeah, I do, I thought about that conversation a lot while I was stuck in Cold Oak. And how you’d kissed me.”

“I want to know if that’s still true. Or did I screw that up by doing what I did?” Dean asks.

Sam sighs when he hears the sadness and fear in his brother’s voice, he pulls at Dean until he turns on his side to face him and finally gets to look into his eyes, “No Dean, you did not screw it up. Even though it’s been crazy the last few months, I still wouldn’t want to be anywhere else or with anyone else.”

“Oh, uh, that’s good.” Dean says, sounding so relieved Sam’s heart feels like it’s breaking into a thousand Dean-shaped pieces.

Sam takes a deep breath and finally says what he’s been holding back for months now, “I don’t know if I ever said this, but thank you, for what you did. And if it means anything, I get it now, I know I would have done the exact same thing.”

“Really? You would have?” Dean asks, truly surprised at Sam’s words.

“That right there, you having to even ask that question is why this nightmare bugged you so much tonight. Yes of course I would have you idiot. What? You think I don’t feel the same way about living without you?” Sam examines Dean’s face to catalogue his reaction to that question, because if Dean doesn’t understand that he feels the same damn way about him, then there’s a real problem.

“You seemed to do okay at Stanford.” Dean counters.

Sam blows out an exasperated breath that ruffles the top of Dean’s hair, “Yeah, I did, but that’s because I knew you were still out there in the world somewhere, avoiding me maybe, but I still knew you were alive. I don’t think I’d make it very long without you, I hope I never have the chance to find out.”

“Me too.” Dean says with a truckload of stored-up emotion that makes his voice shake.  He clears his throat, “We need to get to sleep. We’ve got a long drive to Broward County tomorrow.”

Sam leans back to turn off the light, then pulls him back closer into the circle of his arms so that Dean will feel safe the rest of the night, and murmurs into Dean’s hair, “Oh boy, Florida here we come, again.”

**_~FIN~_ **


	4. Season 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A season 4 conversation I wish had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my characters, only my words. Written for 8 days of Wincest.   
> Set immediately following “Death Takes A Holiday” 4.15 and right before “On The Head Of A Pin” 4.16

“Here’s to Pamela.” Sam says, lifting his glass.

“Remember when we first met her, she wanted to do both of us?” Dean leans across the small table and clinks their motel water glasses full of whisky together, splashing a bit out onto his hand.

“Yeah, we should have gone for it, would have been hot.” Sam says.

“Coulda woulda shoulda Sammy.” Dean teases, slowly licking the spilled whisky off the back of his hand.

Sam’s eyes glaze over a little, fixated on Dean’s pink tongue, picturing it on Pamela’s nipple, while he licks the other, but that’s not ever happening, because she’s dead. Because of them. He shakes himself to finally manage an answer, “You think she’s mad at us?”

“Naw, not her.” Dean scoffs.

“Man, we screw up everything we touch.” Sam says, taking a big gulp of whisky, staring out the dirty window at the rain-soaked parking lot.

Pretty much.” Dean agrees. “Hey, at least we’re consistent.”

“Even you, I mess you up.” Sam says, looking across the table at his brother, perfect as usual on the outside, but torn up on the inside because he knows he’s being lied to.

Dean rolls his eyes, because he can’t take it when Sam gets down on himself, “No you don’t dude, cut it out.”

“I do. And I’m sorry I always let you down.” Sam insists, grabbing at Dean’s hand to hold it tight.

“What are you talking about Sam? Or are you just getting sloppy because we’ve been drinking?”

“I promised you. And I tried. But I couldn’t. And you were gone, just gone.” Sam trails off, getting lost in his hazy memories of those first few weeks without Dean for real. How there’d been no reason to do anything, the anger and loss growing insurmountable, so terrifying in its completeness.

“It’s okay Sammy, I know you tried, and I’m back remember?” Dean switches their hands so he’s holding Sam’s with a gentle squeeze, hoping that’s enough comfort. He can’t even acknowledge how much guilt he’s harboring for leaving his brother behind, lost and adrift, coming apart at the seams, held together by a damn demon long enough for him to get back.

Sam pulls his hand back and puts it in his lap, lowers his head and kind of curls into himself, speaking quietly into his chest, like he knows that asking for penance will do no good, no one can forgive what he’s done, what he’s doing, not even Dean, “No, it’s never going to be okay. I don’t get how you can forgive me.”

“I don’t know how, but I do.” Dean says firmly, willing Sam to believe him.

Sam shakes his head, “Dean you don’t know everything.”

“So tell me.” Dean pleads, reaching across the table to reach Sam’s face, turning it up a little so he can at least see his eyes.

“I can’t, I tried before, you won’t understand.” Sam says, his eyes full of sadness and regret.

“Well how about tell me what Pamela said.” Dean says, hoping that Sam can at least tell him that.

“She told me that I have a great ass.” Sam says, acting embarrassed, but guilty as hell that he’s not telling Dean what she really told him.

Dean grins at Sam’s evident embarrassment, “She’s not wrong there. That all she said?”

“She uh, told me she saw what I did with one of the demons that attacked us.”

“You did your mind mojo deal.” Dean says, like he’s struggling to sound matter-of-fact.

“Yeah.” Sam admits.

“You did that with Alastair too, in the cemetery?” Dean asks.

“Uh huh.” Sam nods, not wanting to elaborate at all.

“How Sam? Because you sure couldn’t do it back when we met Anna.” Dean asks, searching his brother’s familiar face to try and see if he’s getting anything close to the truth.

Sam takes a deep breath and blows it out, “Ruby, she’s uh, been helping me practice.”

Dean goes still, his hand tightening on his whisky glass until the knuckles go white, “But I thought you stopped that.”

“I did. For a while, but then after that magician guy almost killed us. I went back to it. She’s helping us Dean, otherwise Alastair would have had us in that cemetery.” Sam points out. Knowing that the excuse won’t be enough for Dean.

Dean takes a long pull from his glass, giving him a chance to put it together, “So what you said, when the siren had you, ‘bout killin’ Lilith, that’s the truth huh?”

“Yeah.” Sam answers.

“But why?”

“It’s something I’m good at, and I can keep you safe.” Sam says, sitting up straighter in his chair, setting his shoulders and meeting Dean’s eyes so that he can see that he means it.

“But you’re risking yourself Sammy.”

“How is that any different than what you did, selling your soul for me?” Sam asks.

“It just is.” Dean says, knowing he could never explain it.

“What ‘cause it’s for you?” Sam huffs.

“Yeah.” Dean answers, even though that doesn’t even make sense to him.

“Damnit Dean, don’t you get it by now? I’ll go just as far as you did for me, if not farther, to keep you safe and alive.”

“Why?”

“You think you’re the only one who gets to be the protector, just ‘cause you’re the big brother? Sometimes you need protecting too Dean. And yeah you’re worth it, so stow the low self-esteem bullshit for once. I can’t do this without you. Don’t you get it? Same as it is for you.”

“Can’t do what without me?” Dean asks.

“Live this life.” Sam answers. “Remember, I told you? Before your deal came due. That I didn’t think I’d make it very long without you, and it was true.”

“Maybe Pamela was right.” Dean says after a long pause, remembering that long-ago conversation with a different Sam, so desperate to save him from Hell, seems like more than forty years for him.

“What about?” Sam asks.

“We all gotta go sometime.” Dean answers, downing the rest of his whisky.

“Been there done that, both of us, we’re different now.”

“Funny, Cas said the same thing to me tonight.” Dean says.

“Wonder what that means?” Sam asks.

“Immortality is yours little brother.” Dean says.

Sam shakes his head vehemently, “No thank you. Not unless you have it too.”

“You want an eternity stuck with me?” Dean asks with an upraised skeptical eyebrow.

“So what if I do?” Sam shrugs.

“God. You’re a freak.”

“So you keep tellin’ me.” Sam laughs.

“I am too though, right there with you dude.” Dean says.

“Can’t argue with that.” Sam pours more whisky into their glasses.

“To Pamela, we’re sorry we got you killed, but thanks anyways for the help.” Dean toasts.

“Here here.” Sam clinks their glasses together once again. “You think it’ll be quiet for a while now that Alastair’s gone?”

“Hope so, don’t want to see him again as long as I live.”  Dean says with a shudder he can’t quite hide.

“You said Cas took care of him right?” Sam asks.

“Yeah. Hope it was permanent whatever he did.” Dean answers.

“Me too.” Sam says, thinking about how he has to be ready, just in case Alastair comes back. His strange hold over Dean is scarier than anything Sam’s had to face. Sam is filled with the feeling that he might be the only thing standing between his brother and the demons that want to drag him back to Hell.

**_~FIN~_ **


	5. Season 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation I wish they'd had during season 5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my characters, only my words. Written for 8 days of Wincest. Set after “Dark Side of the Moon” 5.16

They’re driving, seems like they’re always driving.  Away from the blood-soaked room where they were shot and killed. The room where they were brought back alive and remembering Heaven this time.  The room where Dean threw away the one thing Sam thought he’d never let go of. Dean’s got the radio on for once instead of his tapes, so the music’s from the last twenty years, and they’re both quiet, thinking about what just happened.

Dean finally breaks the silence, “Remember how you said you wanted an eternity stuck with me? Looks like you’re getting your wish.”

“How do you even remember this stuff Dean?” Sam asks, with a grin that was surprised out of him.

“If it’s gonna be worth teasing you about, I’ve got a mind like a steel trap little brother.”

“Hmmm, Winchesterland sounds good to me when it’s all over.” Sam says, remembering the name Ash had given their heaven.

“Hope there’s more there than what Zachariah showed us.” Dean says, “Because it would be seriously boring if that was it.”

“Oh I know there will be, we barely saw anything, I didn’t get to see any of my top ten.” Sam offers, knowing that Dean won’t be able to resist the tantalizing offer of a top ten list.

“Alright, hit me.” Dean says, looking out the windshield at the road ahead of them.

Sam socks him in the bicep, hard. When Dean yelps in surprise, Sam laughs out a sarcastic, “What?”

“Hit me with your top ten Sam.”

“Oh, thought you just were asking for some contact.” Sam grins.

“Contact’s good, not that kind though. C’mon, make with the list.” Dean demands.

When he hears Dean mention the good kind of contact, Sam takes that giant hint without comment, clicking off his seatbelt and sliding over, laying his head down on Dean’s shoulder. “Only if you’ll tell me yours.”

“Fine. You first though.” Dean knows that he probably doesn’t want to hear more memories that Sam will have that don’t involve him, or their dad, or their whole life together, it will probably all be Jess and his friends, other times Sam went away. But Dean’s pretty down after what they saw, and what Joshua told them, and the spectacle of watching Cas completely give up. Why not complete it with more of Sam’s selective memories?

“Well, I think my first one would be the first time you kissed me. I’ll never forget how lit up I felt inside, like everything was finally right in the world.”

“Just from that one kiss Sammy?”

“Yeah Dean.”

“Well, I won’t mind replaying that one at least a few times.” Dean admits. “What’s next on your list?”

“The first time we were together, for a whole week with no hunting, no dad, just us in that little cabin in Montana.”

“Oh yeah, good choice, that’ll be awesome on re-run.”

“The time you brought me my favorite coffee and muffins and read the Sunday newspaper with me for hours without saying anything.”

“When was that?”  Dean asks, because that sure doesn’t sound like anything special or memorable.

“A couple weeks after Jess, we might have been in the Midwest, I don’t really remember that. It was just a perfect few hours, exactly what I needed, right when I couldn’t have gone on without it.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Dean says.

“When I said you and me against the world, it’s not just some throwaway phrase, it’s something we’ve lived Dean, are living right now.  That doesn’t stop just because of some apocalypse the angels are trying to arrange.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean says, lump as big as his heart stuck in his throat.

“That you just blowing me off, or do you really get it?” Sam asks.

Dean clears his throat roughly, “No I get it Sam.”

They drive in silence for a while longer, dusk turning to dark, city turning to country turning to suburb.

“I’m sorry.” Dean finally says, hoping it won’t have to be a big, long, drawn-out conversation about betrayal of trust.

“For what?” Sam asks.

“Throwing it away.” Dean says, being non-specific on purpose, because he doesn’t think he can bear to spell out the details.

“I know. Can you pull over soon?” Sam says, heart in his throat, hoping he can wait long enough for them to both be out of the car.

Dean turns off at the next exit and finds a gas station, pulls up at one of the pumps and gets the gas going quickly, leaning on the back hood to stare blankly off at the horizon. He can hear Sam rustling around in the front seat and feels Sam’s heat warming up the space right next to him.

“Here.” Sam says, holding out his clenched fist. “Thought you might want this back.”

Dean takes Sam’s hand in his and pries it open finger by finger, revealing the necklace he’d deliberately thrown away just a few hours ago, because he was mad at Sam about the memories he’d seen in their heaven, and he was swept up in the spectacle of Cas giving up on ever finding God. He’d paused over that trashcan, making sure that Sam would see him do it, throw that away. Trying to hurt him back in some petty, stupid unforgiveable way.

“Thanks, but why? I mean, you saw me toss this thing.” Dean asks, unsure why his brother would be giving this back to him right now, or more honestly, ever.

“Oh . . . uh . . . never mind.” Sam re-clenches his fist tightly and steps away from the Impala and Dean as fast as he can manage. Steps away to be apart, separate, like Dean really must want them to be after all. In a split second moment of clarity Sam realizes that Dean truly doesn’t want the reminder of the burden the necklace represents.

Dean sighs, “Sammy come back, please.” He can’t step away from filling the Impala, doesn’t want the gas to overflow and get all over her.

“I’m just gonna go…uh…I’ll be right back.” Sam mutters, walking quickly out of the circle of overhead lights and towards the back of the QuikStop where the bathroom hopefully is.

Sam pushes through the bathroom door and locks it behind him.  He feels like dry-heaving, or lying down in a fetal position, or tearing the room apart with his fingernails. So this is what it’s like then, when they finally break apart. He’d gotten a taste of it when he and Dean had split right after Lucifer rose. But, this feels different, more permanent, because of the history of the little thing still digging into his palm.

He opens up his hand and looks down at it, wondering how such a small thing could carry so much weight, could mean so much for so many years, and then be so easily thrown away. He holds it by the cord dangling over the tall gas-station garbage can, it sways a little side-to-side, catching the dim fluorescent flicker of lights.  Sam vaguely hears a pounding from far away, something he’s heard before, his brother’s voice in a panic on the other side of a locked door.

The bathroom door flies in, crashing off its hinges into the wall, Dean sees Sam hold the amulet over the trash for a moment and then let go, it falls down into the tall receptacle, clanging a few times and then the sound goes muffled, lost in the mass of crumpled-up paper towels and mostly empty to-go cups. 

“What the hell Sam?” Dean yells, dashing forward towards his brother and the trash can. He grabs at Sam’s now empty hand and turns it palm side up, “Why didja?”

“But, you didn’t want it back.” Sam says in complete confusion.

“Not what I meant dude. I didn’t understand why you were giving it back to me, how you could forgive me so fast. That’s all.” Dean says, with an unhinged earnestness that he knows is verging on begging.

Sam’s face lights up with comprehension, the last few minutes erased with the sudden happiness he feels flooding his adrenaline-fueled system, he tosses the trashcan over with impressive speed, rifles through the debris and comes up with the amulet in a few heartbeats. He straightens up and faces Dean, deliberately repeating his words from outside, “Here.” Sam says, holding out his clenched fist. “Thought you might want this back.”

And this time, Dean gets it, what Sam was saying in the car about how it really is them together against the world, because forgiveness is one of the things that he sees now truly binds them together. He reaches out one hand and takes the amulet back from Sam. “Thanks Sammy.”

They walk back out to the Impala, bumping hips together, Dean still holding the thing tight in his grasp. When they get into the car, Sam slides over to kiss Dean like usual, reaching up to grab at the amulet to pull him in tight, but it’s not there. Dean hasn’t put it back around his neck yet. “You’re still holding it, what’s up?”

“Doesn’t feel like it’s just mine anymore you know? So I’m gonna put it here for both of us.” Dean leans forward and loops the cord around the rear-view mirror, so that the amulet hangs just below it.

Sam looks at it swinging there, little face winking in the reflected light from the gas station island. “This you showin’ me you get what we were talkin’ about before?”

“Yeah Sammy, just you and me against the world.” Dean answers against Sam’s lips.

  ** _~FIN~_**


	6. Season 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation that I wish had taken place in season 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my characters, only my words. Written for 8 days of Wincest. Set right after French Mistake 6.15.

They’re boarding up Bobby’s broken window so that the living room won’t get too soaked from the rainstorm that’s just not letting up. Sam finishes hammering in a nail on his side, “Still can’t believe you thought I’d want to stay there in that place.”

“Oh give it up already would you, thought you’d be happy with all that normal coming out the wazoo.” Dean answers over the noise of his pounding in another nail.

Sam points the hammer at Dean, “There was nothin’ normal about that Padalecki’s life dude, nothin’.”

“He had money, a wife, that awesome house.” Dean ticks off all the highlights of the strange world they’ve just returned from.

“But he was a jerk. He didn’t even talk to you. Who does that after working together for that many years?” Sam asks. “I got the feeling that everyone that worked there thought there had been something between the two of them, and that they’d broken up or something.”

“Yeah me too, that’s why they were so surprised we were talking.” Dean agrees, glad Sam picked up on that too.

“’nother reason I didn’t want to stay there.” Sam says reaching into the tin for another nail.

Dean ducks his head and smiles, remembering Sam saying _“we’re not even brothers here”_ as his bottom-line explanation for wanting to leave. “But you would have been safe if we’d stayed there Sammy.”

Sam shakes his head. “I don’t think so, not without you there.”

“But I would have been stuck there too. And we weren’t brothers so…” Dean says, leaving the ending open for Sam to interpret as he likes (or not).

“So what? That was my point, we wouldn’t have been family anymore.” Sam insists.

“Yeah I know, but other things would have been possible instead, since we weren’t related.” Dean says patiently waiting for Sam to figure it out.

Sam inhales sharply when he finally gets it, “Oh.”

After a few moments of stunned silence that he even brought the topic up, Dean asks, “That all you’re gonna say, oh?”

“I’m not sure what to think. You mean you’d want to if we could, like legally and stuff?” Sam asks.

“Well, yeah, of course. Wouldn’t you?” Dean asks, suddenly and uncomfortably unsure of Sam’s answer.

“I…uh, yeah of course, but honestly, I haven’t thought about it in a long, long time.” Sam stammers, still surprised more than anything that Dean has brought up this idea of them making their relationship permanent and official.

“Since when?” Dean asks.

“Since I was a kid, and Susie Halpert was bugging everyone in our group about our plans for the future at a party once. So I had to come up with something, and I remember I thought of you first.” Sam confesses.

“Oh.” Dean says quietly, with a whole lot of disappointment crammed into those two little letters.

“Just oh?” Sam asks, worried now that he’s let Dean down somehow with his honest answer.

“Yeah, I mean, wasn’t that when you were like twelve or something? And you haven’t thought about it since then?” Dean asks, worried that he’s given away too much yet again, put too much pressure on Sam to want what he wants.

“Never seemed like a possibility for us, so I didn’t want to torture myself with what-ifs, just living life with you day to day is exciting enough you know?” Sam answers carefully.

“Just wish I could give you that part of normal.” Dean says quietly.

“It’s really not on my list of things I’m stressin’ over Dean. As long as you’re safe and we’re together, I’m counting it as good these days.”

“Livin’ the dream eh Sammy?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Simple tastes, makes it easier to have a chance to be happy.”

“You’re way too well-adjusted dude.” Dean laughs, shaking his head.

“All your fault.” Sam answers with a huge smile that brings out his dimples. “Hey, when’s Bobby getting’ back?”

“Hopefully after we get the window replaced tomorrow, why?” Dean says, putting the hammers back in the battered red metal tool-box.

“Can we make a fire and just sleep down here?” Sam asks, even though he knows it makes him sound like a five year old.

“Why not?” Dean agrees, because Sam never asks for anything these days, except for his soul-less memories and he’s not getting those if Dean has anything to say about it.

They make a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor in front of the fire that Dean gets going so that it’s putting out enough heat to counter the wind whistling through the boarded-up broken window across the room. Staring into the fire, not talking, trading the whisky bottle back and forth they settle back into themselves, and their world.

Dean finally breaks the silence, “It really was weird seeing her with you.”

“Who? Ruby, uh I mean Genevieve?”

Dean looks at Sam’s face closely in the flickering light, watching to see if he’s getting the whole truth or not this time. “Yeah.”

Sam feels Dean’s scrutiny and shifts around so he can meet his eyes directly, unwavering so that Dean can see the truth, “Nothing happened that night Dean.”

Dean smile flickers and fades. “I figured. That’s not it.”

“What is then?” Sam asks, worried about the disappearance of his brother’s smile.

“Just the thought that there’s another universe out there where you were supposed to end up with her.” Dean says.

“Instead of you.” Sam sighs.

“Yeah.” Dean answers, looking up at Sam, searching his eyes to see how much this idea bother him.

“Well, that’s what I meant earlier, I think we were supposed to be together there too, but they couldn’t or didn’t because of the whole acting thing.” Sam explains.

“Oh, right. I guess that’d be pretty sad, especially if they knew what they were missing out on.” Dean thinks he’d never have been able to do it himself, not for all the money those two obviously were swimming in.

“It would. I’m glad we’re in this world. Yeah it’s weird that we’re brothers and we’re like this, you know, together and all. But I can’t imagine denying my feelings for you just to have a career.”

“Good thing we picked hunting then.” Dean says with a sardonic laugh to cover up how relieved he is that Sam feels the same way about this.

“More like it picked us, but yeah, it’s definitely a good thing. Although I would really love to have an alpaca if we ever settle down somewhere.” Sam says, looking at Dean with an innocent blank gaze.

Dean elbows him sharply, sloshing some of the whisky out of the bottle. “Dude, no alpacas. It’ll be hard enough to deal with having a dog.”

“What, you think I’m going to want a dog?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, of course you are. A big smelly one that’ll mess up my car all the time and want to sleep on our bed.” Dean says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, forgone conclusion, all that.

“But I’ll have someone to go running with so you won’t have to come up with excuses every morning.” Sam says with a grin, so happy that Dean’s thought about what their future might be like.

“As long as I can train him to bring me beers from the fridge, I’ll just deal with it.” Dean says, glad to be talking about their future as if it’s something that might actually happen for them at some point.

“Sounds like a plan. What about you, where are we putting in your giant fish tank?” Sam asks with a laugh.

“Oh god, that was hilarious, in his trailer of all places. Better than your tanning bed though.”

“Hey, I… he had to look good.” Sam protests.

“I know, but in the living room? Almost as tacky as those paintings.” Dean laughs.

“Those were making my eyes bleed.” Sam admits.

“So what was it like, sleeping with her?” Dean asks, because he’s not quite done with this subject of fake Ruby.

“She uh, was nice, a little confused I think, but it was a nice room, big bed that I actually fit in. Didn’t sleep very well though, because it wasn’t you in the bed with me.”

“She didn’t come on to you though?” Dean asks, more than a little worried about hearing the answer.

“A little, but the honey-I-have-a-headache excuse worked pretty well. She was going on a lot about how you called her Ruby again and how it pissed her off that you kept doing that.”

“I guess I was a jerk there too.” Dean says, recalling her expression when he’d called her that, that prissy just ate-a-lemon face that he’d hated on Ruby too.

“You’re not a jerk Dean.” Sam says emphatically.

“Sometimes I am.” Dean shrugs.

“Maybe sometimes, but not like those guys, not even close.” Sam says with real feeling, because he’s always hated it that Dean thinks that badly of himself.

“Think Bobby will believe us when he hears about all the other worlds out there?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, he will, of course. Dean you think it’d be safe to . . . you know?” Sam bites at side of Dean’s neck, lips moving up to suck lightly at his earlobe.

Dean shivers at the feeling. “Right here? In front of the fire in Bobby’s living room? Where he could walk in unannounced at any moment?”

“Fine, you’re right, just asking if you’d make an exception to the rule tonight.” Sam says, not really put out about Dean saying no, but wishing he’d just go for it tonight, he wants to reconnect after their separation in that strange world.

“I just always feel like it’s wrong if we do anything here at his house. It’s bad enough we lie to him about us.” Dean answers, hoping that Sam gets that it isn’t about not wanting him, it’s never that.

“I get it Dean, I’m sorry. You just got me in the mood with what you were saying before.”

“About the if we weren’t brothers stuff?” Dean asks.

“Yeah.” Sam answers.

“Had no idea that’d be a turn-on Sammy.” Dean says with a rumbling purr.

“It’s not that, well it is, but it’s the idea that you’ve thought about it.” Sam answers, a little flustered.

“Far as I’m concerned, being with you is permanent, where I’m s’posed to be.” Dean says, figuring a little more of that kind of talk will be even more of a turn-on for Sam even if this isn’t going anywhere tonight.

“So you wishing I could have normal and safe with fake Ruby was more about the safe part of it then?” Sam manages to ask.

“Yeah. Because I haven’t been so great on providing that for you lately.” Dean says.

“Dude, you got me my soul back. I’d say that’s keeping me pretty damned safe.”

“Yeah alright, but the way things have been with the angel weirdness, I’m just not sure what’s comin’ next.” Dean says.

“We never know that, part of the job right? As long as we stick together, it seems to work out.” Sam assures him, holding Dean tight.

“You and me against the world, no matter what world we’re in.” Dean murmurs as he falls off the cliff into sleep.

Sam smiles at his brother’s words and whispers. “Pretty much sums it up.” As he follows right behind him.

Bobby walks in early the next morning and finds Sam and Dean curled up in front of a banked fire, ensconced in a pile of all the blankets in the house. Wrapped up together just as tightly as always. He sighs and wishes they’d just tell him already, he’s never seen them happy unless they’re together and yeah it’s weird and they’re brothers, but they’re still his boys. And all he wants for them, is to be happy together after all the crap that the forces of heaven and hell have thrown at them. Then he wonders why the hell his window is broken and hopes there’s a good story behind it.

~FIN~


	7. Season 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation I wish had taken place during season 7.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my characters, only my words. Written for 8 days of Wincest. Set after “Reading Is Fundamental” 7.21. This one's a lot schmoopier than the others.

Sam wakes up, warm and naked under the covers of the small bed in Rufus’ cabin, which has unexpectedly become their unofficial home base. He wakes up alone, and kind of cold on one side now that he notices Dean’s absence, so he calls out. “Come back to bed Dean.”

“In a minute, ‘m almost done.” Comes Dean’s answer from across the room.

“Dick will still be there in the morning, c’mon dude you need your sleep.” Sam says, a little louder so that Dean knows he’s not just going back to sleep without him in the bed.

“So do you. Start without me.” Dean says, hoping that Sam will fall back to sleep so he can keep researching what a soul of a righteous bone might be.

But Sam doesn’t (or can’t) fall asleep lately unless he’s either wrapped up in Dean’s arms, or at least touching him somehow, and now he’s way across the room, bent over the lit-up screen of the lap top, glowing blue around him in a nimbus of unearthly light. “Can’t sleep, need you.” Sam mumbles as loudly as he can, cringing at how whiny and young he sounds even to his own ears.

Dean rolls his eyes and shuts the laptop with almost too much force and walks the few steps back across the room to the bed. He looks down at his brother, hair sleep and sex-mussed, bare shoulders just showing above the covers and all he wants is to be back in that warm cocoon wrapped up with Sam. But he’d woken up to follow a thought he’d had in a dream about finding this righteous bone. Sam smiles up at him, eyes full of sleepy warmth, and his resolve to keep digging evaporates.  Dean starts to get back into bed fully clothed in jeans and several layers of shirts so that he can pop back out as soon as Sam’s back asleep.

Sam shakes his head. “No way dude. Take it off. No clothes allowed in here.”

Dean sighs. “Alright, alright, you just want a free strip show.”

“So what if I do?” Sam asks, looking up at his big brother standing there, hesitating to get naked again.

“So demanding Sammy.” Dean tut-tuts with a small smile that shows he loves it.

Sam sees the smile and asks. “You keep me happy, then you’re happy, right?”

Giving up on arguing for more research in the middle of the night time, Dean pulls off his clothes as quickly as possible, diving back into the warmth of the covers on their bed and snuggling his cold body up to Sam’s heat.

“Gah! So cold. How long were you up anyways?” Sam says, surprised at how cold Dean is all over, even in the places he’s normally never cold..

“Couple hours, woke up thinking about the righteous bone thing and wanted to pursue it before I forgot.” Dean answers as he pulls his brother into his arms, arranging him the way he knows will work best to get Sam to go back to sleep.

Sam snuggles into Dean’s arms, even though they’re still kind of too cold and closes his eyes, breathing in Dean deeply. So many months of having another person in the bed with them, and now it’s just Dean&Sam like it’s supposed to be.  “’s nice having just you in here with me.” Sam murmurs into Dean’s chest.

“You mean no Lucifer?” Dean asks.

Sam wakes up a little when Dean says the angel’s name. “Yeah, he was a mouthy bastard. You know Cas told me the other day that he was just a projection of my own mind.”

“So all the shit talkin’ was you talking bad to yourself?” Dean asks, wondering when Cas was lucid enough for a coherent conversation.

“Uh huh.” Sam agrees.

“Wow, that’s good, I guess.” Dean says, although it’s pretty awful to think that his brother could have meant all those things he said about himself. The self-esteem issues they both have is one of those topics that they never bring up though, because after a lifetime living with it, they know there’s nothing to be done at this point except survive the shit they dish out to themselves.

“Well, yeah that it wasn’t actually somehow Lucifer with some hold on me left over from the Cage, definitely. But that’s how he knew how to hurt me the most, because it was all me.” Sam observes.

“Sammy, I’m sorry it took so long. But I’m glad that it worked, that you’re okay.” Dean hugs him closer and kisses the side of his head.

“Me too Dean, I’m really sorry I wasn’t really present after Bobby and all that. That you had to deal with me going crazy on top of losing him. Feel like I let you down.” Sam says, leaning up to kiss Dean’s neck. He knows that apologizing to Dean never really sticks, Dean is Teflon when apologies or compliments come his way, he lets them all slide off instead of keeping them to build himself up like he should.

“Hey I got us through it, we’re here aren’t we?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, we are thanks to you. Remember that whole thing after Becky, where I was talking about how you could have a life and look after yourself instead of me? I’m sorry that’s not happening.”

“Didn’t really want it anyways.” Dean says.

“This the whole I’m-your-job-thing?” Sam asks.

“Yeah if you wanna call it that. It’s how I operate, you know that by now.” Dean says with a tone that implies that the conversation is over now on that subject.

Sam pushes up on one elbow so he can look at Dean’s face in the moonlight coming in through the small window above the bed. “I know, but it’s how I operate too, you know? I need to take care of you too.”

“Really?” Dean asks.

Sam rolls his eyes and flops back down beside Dean. “Yeah, thanks for noticing. Guess I haven’t been doing a bang-up job of it lately.”

“Dude, you’ve been a little occupied with Lucifer and all.” Dean says looking over at Sam who’s lying there with his eyes closed, even though he knows Sam won’t accept that excuse, no matter how legitimate it really is.

Sam turns his head because he feels Dean looking at him. “I know, but I miss it. Doing things for you.”

Dean searches his face because he can hear the urgency in Sam’s voice. “But you do. All the time, even when you were out of it, you never really stopped.”

“Like what?” Sam asks, because so little of the last few months made sense to him.

“All the little things that you do, making me eat stuff I should but wouldn’t on my own, buying the kind of beer I like, shaving off your beard when I asked, not cutting your hair, all that stuff.” Dean lists off all the things he can think of off the top of his head.

“Dean.” Sam says in a voice choked-off from too much emotion.

“Oh c’mon Sammy, no more cryin’.” Dean pulls him back into a hug, hoping that’ll stop this emotion-fest from getting to be too much.

“No, ‘m not cryin’, just happy.” Sam manages to say.

“Why?” Dean asks.

“Because you let me love you like this.” Sam whispers into Dean’s hair.

“Oh god, here we go, ‘s not like I have a choice.” Dean grumbles even though Sam’s whisper against his skin and the meaning of the words make him shiver.

Sam bites him on the shoulder, hard. “Shut up, it is a choice and you know it. And I’m glad we’ve finally figured it out after all this time. We both need it. Takin’ care of each other.”

Dean turns Sam around in his arms and looks at him closely, Dean’s silence acknowledgement and acceptance. Finally Dean adds something that he’s wanted to say for a while now. “That’s what Bobby wanted you know, he wanted to see that we’d keep doing that. It’s part of why he stayed around.”

“I think you’re right. And you know, I’m glad he saw us together, even if it was after he passed.” Sam says, not letting go of Dean’s gaze.

“Harder to get embarrassed about a ghost seeing us.” Dean agrees, smiling at the memory of Bobby’s ghost appearing in the bathroom that had that enormous shower they’d been taking full advantage of.

“The things we’ve gotten used to, angels, demons and ghosts spying on us.” Sam says in a whisper against Dean’s lips.

“We could have our own Pay-Per-View channel, make some money out of it at least.” Dean says, laughing into their kiss.

“Shut up and go back to sleep Dean.” Sam says, kisses him deeply once more, then snuggles in next to Dean, pulling the covers up tight around them both.

Dean blows at the hair around Sam’s ear because he knows he hates it, sees Sam grimace and then smile when he stops blowing. “Night Sammy.”

Sam peeks one eye open to see that Dean’s got his closed, “Night Dean.”

_**~FIN~** _

 


	8. Season 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation I wish had happened during season 8.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my characters, only my words. Written for 8 days of Wincest. Set after “Taxi Driver” 8.19  
> Last in this series.

A couple hundred miles away from the 100 mile wilderness, Sam and Dean are finishing up breakfast in a diner. Nothing special, although the coffee’s better than the kind they usually expect in these places. Dean can’t take his eyes off of Sam across the table, can’t believe that he’s back, like it was no big deal traveling to Hell and Purgatory all in the space of twenty-four hours. Sam’s not saying much yet, just reading the local paper, pushing the remains of his omelet around on his plate. 

Finally Dean breaks the silence. “So, uh, I had a visit from that angel chick Naomi, on Garth’s boat. She said you were in Purgatory.”

Sam’s head comes up sharply, eyes meeting Dean’s. “That’s how you knew I needed help. Benny, uh, he didn’t know how you knew I was there. Just said you called him and said your brother needed saving.”

“Yeah, he came right away when I called him.” Dean trails off, unable to say any more about what happened with Benny, not in this sunlit diner, where nothing bad has ever happened and his brother sits whole and complete across from him.

“He said to tell you goodbye and that he was never any good up here.” Sam says, in the hopes that it will help Dean feel better about what he had to do to his friend.

“I figured he’d do somethin’ like that.” Dean says, looking down at the swirls of ketchup remaining on his plate, remembering the blood when he’d had to take Benny’s head off. He plays with the dull table knife, spinning it on its point on the Formica table with one hand.

Sam reaches across the table and replaces the knife with his own hand, squeezing Dean’s tightly. “Listen, I still don’t know the whole thing that was between you and Benny. I know you went through a lot with him. But, you should know, he saved me Dean. He made sure I got out. That I got back to you.”

Dean looks at Sam’s giant hand engulfing his, so solid and real, anchoring him here, with just those warm fingers and earnest words. He’s suddenly filled with gratitude for his friend’s sacrifice, that he gets to sit here and have his hand held by the person who means everything to him, just because Benny set things right. He looks up at Sam, holds his gaze for a long, quiet moment. “I knew he would. That’s why I sent him in after you.”

Sam’s eyes cloud up with unshed tears at the look on his brother’s face. Dean’s pain and loss unmistakable, impossible to ignore. “I’m sorry you had to do that. To your friend. So thank you.”

Dean shrugs, and pulls his hand out of Sam’s grasp, holding on to his own hand in his lap to keep himself from reaching out again for the comfort of touching Sam. “Sounds like he didn’t have too much of a problem with it.”

“He really seemed decided on staying there.” Sam says carefully, like he’s not sure how much of this Dean really wants to hear.

Dean gets a far-away look in his eyes. “Kind of like Cas wanted to.”

“He did?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I remembered it differently when I first got back. But he showed me how it really was.  He felt like he was supposed to stay there, to do penance or some bull like that.” Dean says, remembering how he felt so stupid for having insisted that Cas try and get out with them if he didn’t even want to go in the first place. Taking all that extra risk for nothing.

“He didn’t think he deserved to get out with you?” Sam asks.

“No, that’s why it was so weird when he just showed up like he did. I mean before we knew about Naomi.” Dean says.

“What is it with Purgatory, all the monsters want to stay there? Except for me.” Sam observes.

Now it’s Dean’s turn to reach across the table. Quick as a snake, grasping at Sam’s wrist to get his full attention. “Now you’re calling yourself a monster?”

“Why not? You have before Dean. I figure that’s what this trial stuff is doing, purifying me, maybe I won’t be one anymore.” Sam says, not looking at Dean, just at his brother’s hand circling his wrist, the skin going white under Dean’s thick, sturdy fingers.

Dean lets go of Sam’s wrist, and slides his hand down to put their palms together, interlacing their fingers. “Sammy c’mon.”

Sam presses his hand into Dean’s, then raises his eyes up to meet Dean’s, so green in the morning light coming through the diner windows. “No really. That’s what it feels like. And maybe it’s a good thing, finally being clean.”

Dean’s so glad that Sam’s looking at him, really looking, those hazel eyes gone almost green-blue in the sunlight, unblinking with the truth Sam believes he’s saying about himself. But he’s wrong, so wrong. “You are. You’re good. You always have been.”

“No, that’s not true. I’ve always felt this way inside, and the things I’ve done, you were right Dean to call me that back then. But that’s why I want to keep going, doing these trials, maybe it’ll fix me somehow.”

“You don’t need fixing.” Dean insists.

“You’ve been holding me together for so long, it’s like you’ve forgotten you’re even doing’ it Dean.” Sam half-smiles at him across the table, looks down at their hands still woven together.

Dean squeezes his brother’s hand. “It’s my job.”

Sam looks up at the familiar refrain. “Yeah, I know. And I’m glad you keep doing’ it instead of givin’ up on me.”

Dean’s face goes serious as he remembers one of his least favorite times. “I made that mistake once Sammy. I swore I never would again.”

“I remember.” Sam nods solemnly, like he’s taking on the weight of his brother’s expectations to be worth that much of Dean’s faith.

“Listen, I know the hits have been comin’ for you since you were six months old, but that’s not your fault, just fate or whatever. But you’ve lived a good life as a good person for your whole life anyways. You saved the world Sam once already, and now you’re tryin’ to close the gates of Hell.”

Sam sighs, just hearing Dean have to say all that makes it even clearer to him that he needs to finish these trials. “I wouldn’t be doing’ this without you.”

“Damn straight.” Dean agrees, finally letting go of Sam’s hand.

“I’ve got this feeling that I’ve gotta get this done, and soon.” Sam admits for the first time out loud to himself and Dean.

“We’re gettin’ there, you just have to hold on and then it’ll be over and done. Miller time.”  Dean drains the rest of his coffee.

Sam makes a yuck face worthy of a five-year old. “Bleah, at least get me something’ good to drink.”

Dean grins at that face, one he’s used to seeing for a whole lot of years by now. “Alright, you got it, one of those dark beer things you can float a cookie on top of.”

“Sounds good. And a pot pie, with the beef and carrots and crust. Can you figure out how to make one of those?” Sam asks, like he knows Dean will love the challenge.

“And here I thought you’d never ask for a pie.” Dean laughs, pulling some cash out of his wallet and leaving it with the bill under his water glass. Happy that his brother is thinking ahead past the finish line when this will all be done.

“Still have a few surprises left for you I guess.” Sam stands up to leave, unfolding his long body from the diner seat, stretching a little above Dean.

Dean looks up and up and up at his brother, standing so tall and strong above him. “Good, you know I don’t do boring.”

~FIN~


End file.
